Met littlest cousin M yesterday. After years. When I had come down here the last few times, she was not in Indore and vice versa.

She called me at work and it was amazing just to talk with her. Last we met, she was a kid. The baby on my mother's side. And this time, she is 12! Anyway, we missed the road to Nani's place and had to take a detour. And when we met, it was sheer magic. We just hugged for minutes straight out. No words, just hugged. And she climbed into my arms like the way she used to years ago. And yes, she is heavy now, but for those few minutes, it absolutely did not matter. We talked. We laughed. And we were both a tad upset. The love we have and we can not share. Distance does matter you see. A virtual hug does not mean shit when it comes to actually feeling arms around you and a kiss on your cheek.

She is my little baby. She was born like 15 years after me. And I have taken care of her and her elder sis, cousin S. Love those two to bits. Them and Mousi's kids cousin A and cousin P. These kids just seem to have a magic that can make me turn into a pseudo mother. And yes, I do spoil them. Chocolates and ice-cream being their favourites. At the same time, I also love to hug them and squish them and it sucks that they don't let me do that to them anymore. All grown up you see. A is in Hyderabad at BITS while S and P and in XII and XI respectively. Too grown up for old Purva. Yes, I am going to dial down the drama.

Anyway, what is up on your end people? I write my GMAT on 24th. I am scared and excited at the same time. An exam is one way to get me all fired up. I love competitions. I need to beat all to feel human you see. If I can not, it is the end of the world for me. But I am also scared. They say this is the best combo. Lets see what happens.

Oh and how was Diwali? I was out sick on Diwali. A big fat needle in your arm does not make a Diwali. Though I did make tonnes of food. Yummy food. But was too tired to actually eat anything or take any photographs. Nest year, I plan to have a healthy Diwali. Pneumonia sucks, big time and I wish it to no one. I mean I was actually wheezing after climbing only one set of stairs. I was tired and cranky and could not do much. When we went to meet the relatives the day after, I actually went to sleep at Bhai's wife's place. In a silk salwar suit too. With my pretty silver ear-rings still on. And the worst part is that I still had to do everything on my own. And cough medicines are nasty crap. All of them, even the ones that are supposedly okay to taste. Yuck. Am still not too well. Still working my abs by coughing non stop. But getting better every day.

That pretty much sums up my day. You have a good one till we meet next. Over and out.

Just like that, we decided to go to Las Vegas. No, seriously. Just like that. It ain't that far from Death Valley. Ya, only two hours driving. Why not. Let us do it. And there we were, two totally tired people, who had inhaled tonnes of dust and whose vision was becoming more buggy by the moment (our windscreen was a graveyard for all sorts of bugs you see.)

We did all the Las Vegas-ey things that were needed to be done. Gambled and I won, woohoo!!! Ate at a hotel which was pretty crappy food, but oh whatsoever. We did not dance, we had to rush back in a few hours, but more or less, we had fun.

And as we walk down the strip, we stop by at one of the many booths that line that street. We wanted to know our food options. And there, this black man and lady were talking more, manning the booth less. And they look at us and ask us when are you getting married? And I laughed my ass off, saying never.

Yeah that, it is coming back to bite me in my ass. That never may turn out to be sooner that I had ever thought off. Who knew? Never say never indeed. Touche!

Hi there internet. How is life? Good/bad/ugly?

On my end, I have news. Good, bad and ugly. Some of it all. The good? My baby brother gets married on 12th Feb 2010. Wish him well will ya?

The bad? Diwali is over and now there are no festivals left to celebrate. Yes, Christmas is in December, but it is not the same as in gorgeous CA, so it might be a lot less festive.

The ugly? Pneumonia? Or some nasty chest infection? Yeah I had it. All five days of Diwali and before and after it too. Am still exhausted and tired and still cough up a storm that hurts not just my ribs but also my throat and my eyes that start watering in a minute and my head and all of my upper torso and the muscles in it. In short, yes I hurt. 

Of the more general kind of things? Well there is a lot that has happened. And will happen. More on that later.

PS - I was gone from the social networking circuit for more than a month and nothing seems to have changed. Is it wrong?

We all know that in India at least, English is like the key that opens more doors to you than any other language. Yet, we all have our biases to how it is spoken. The accent ought to be just right, even if we don't know what it means. Rendezvous - you better make it sound like rondevou, who cares what it means. I agree that correct pronunciation is important, but does it mean we give up the regional accent?

One of my students comes from the theth desi background. He has issues with even small pronunciations like is. He calls it ijj. Now it is entirely possible that his teachers themselves spoke ijj for is. I come from a Hindi speaking background. Mistaking sh and s are common and people don't really look down on you when you do that. Then why are we conditioned to look down on ijj? Is it because we know that it ought to be is? Or is it because we, who know angrezi are too snobbish? Most people from Indore have the Indori way of pronunciation. And as long as we are conversing in Malwi, it is perfectly alright. After all, desh is des in this beautiful dialect. So why are we prejudiced against the desi pronunciations? If they make sense in the right context, would it be wrong to accept them?

A French is expected to turn is into izz and they are loved world over for it. The Germans, the Russians, the Indians too are distinguished by the way they speak. But within our own country, we are too biased to let others flourish. The worst is the fact that we are not trying to help them, we are simply making fun of them and moving on. When was it last in the bus/train/market, you found someone mispronouncing a word and instead of just stopping and correcting, you simply laughed and even turned it into a joke to be shared among other friends? No, I am not saying I have never done it. But teaching has given me a new insight into the small town English teaching. Kids learn English, but they miss out on the nuances that actually make this the wonderful language. We are doing swimming is way more common than We are swimming. And it makes me wonder. If languages are alive, why can't they adapt? Rules modify all the time. So expecting one to stick to rules is right, but not expecting the rules to be a little bendy is ridiculous.

I ain't some English professor with a Ph.D. in sentence construction. I am sure I make a tonne of mistakes myself. But as I often tell my students, it is about making sure the other person gets the point. So if that is happening, what is wrong with a little wrong? After all, when are shooting into the dark with the Hadron Collider, what is wrong with accepting a little mirch masala with this bhery phunny language?

So tello, when did Twilight become such a rage? As in I know that preteen girls and their moms too maybe are huge fans of the series, courtesy all the CNN coverage of the movie. But when on earth did 20+ desi dudes start falling for the movie? Or is just a rage, you know like the Ed Hardy Teeshirts? [Just what is it with guys? No fashion sense is one thing, no brains is totally different!]  Apparently the girl who plays the dimwit lead is hot, as they tell me. But if she is hot, would you rather download hot semi-nude wallpapers or go watch sweeter-than-saccharine-coated-in-sugar-and-then-gone-so-bad-it-is-moulding movie? No you know, just curious.

And upar se my cousins expects me to like Hannah Montana. Yes please, barf. So did I. I mean seriously? I steadfastly REFUSE to even watch it, like I have done so far. I have no ideas. Apparently, there are mannerisms that are there, which she dutifully copies and then which make me cringe.

And Papa and I discussed the fact that what he thinks is the best for me might not be the best in my eyes. Needless to say, it was ugly.

Oh and by the way, seen the new Hrithik Roshan ad, the one for Parle's Bourbon biscuits? I can't find the link, else would have linked the post to it. Anyways, I think it needs a job. Yes, he can move. But he needs a barber, ASAP. Seriously man! HE needs to shave and what is it with that ad? I can understand using him in the ad, for there are more than enough crazy people out there. But the ad officially sucks in my books. A person dancing can not convince me to eat biscuits.

On a similar note, there is apparently a movie releasing called Blue. Cousin C and I can not stop laughing over it. It is on every channel and I can not stop howling even as I type. We call it Bieloo and though the camera work and all is good, the movie stinks of bad from this far. There is another movie, called London Dreams. We have two uncle jees portraying wannabe rock-stars, ala mode a mix of just about every rocker out there. Oh man, it will be hilarious. So hilarious infact that I will be crying from it.

Good Lord. I am outdated and so don't belong here. Bacha lo!

It is raining and the city is drinking it with abandon. Going giddy with hopes of the almost drought of this year not repeating itself. The water is welcomed and the only phrase heard is the more the merrier.  There are umbrellas and rain coats and even just the usual clothes for the adventurous who want to get soaked. And as I look around, there are more and more scenes that unfold themselves in this chaotic city.

A girl driving a two wheeler stops near the bus stop. She is wearing a windcheater. Carrying a backpack. She stops her gaddi, gets off. Opens the dickie [the sound of that word :p] and takes off her bag. She puts it in her scooter's dickie. Tries to close it, does not happen. She pushes. Still nothing. She takes some of the extra cloth of the bag and then twists it and puts it back in the dickie and then puts her weight on it. She pushes the seat down and lo and behold, it closes. She starts her gaddi and drives off, nonchalantly. Been there, done that. Happy her bag won't get wet :)

An old lady is walking with her grandkid. There is only one small black umbrella. She is dressed in the usual Malwi style of sari, seedhe pallu ki sari. The kid is young and shorter than her, no older than maybe four or five. The grandma tilts the umbrella so that is covers the kid, herself getting wet. It is not that strong a rain, but still if you walk for long, you will get soaked. The kid lifts her small pants to protect them from getting wet, smiles up at the lady and walks along. To where, I know not, but still together. Bound by something as simple as love or maybe even something way more complex like blood, who knows?

It is pouring now, coming down needle sharp. I walk along, my raincoat and the umbrella seeing the sun, no hold on, the water in a long long time. And there is this young girl, a teenager, walking with her younger brothers. They go and stand underneath a shop's awning. Then they look at each other, laugh like only naive kids can and run out on to the empty street. Drenched to the core.

It has slowed down again. I walk on. There, near the small gali which I wonder has ever seen better days I see an uncle. Papa's age. But he looks like he has had a stroke. Or suffered an accident. The street is muddy and dirty. There is a makan being constructed nearby. He is struggling to not slip. I look up at his face, he looks at me. We smile and he says Hello. That smile alone was worth a million water droplets. I walk on with the lesson to jump in one more water puddle while I still can.

A city like Indore still has a lot more two wheelers around. And well while there are raincoats and umbrellas, one does not really want to get soaked right? So people stand underneath trees, store awnings, in somebody's garden. And the bhutta walas stand nearby. The smell of the bhutta roasting on coal embers, slowly to a golden brown, teases the nose. And more often than not, a bhutta is ordered. Sometimes split in two. But covered in salt and chilli and lemon. The rain making it even more tastier.

I don't remember who it was who was telling me this. Apparently, the older people used to say that one should not put up umbrellas when it rained. Why show ingratitude they said. I love that saying. The silly romanticism of it, it is just pretty.

The rains make me go nuts with delight. I remember soaking in the first downpour no matter where. And it always lifted my heart. The water falling from the sky is a magic, in spite of all the scientific explanations and physics involved. Sometimes, it is much better to just let the heart soar and the magic pour. It will make you smile, and then you can mull over the science involved in the muscles and the teeth later. But the smile will be simple, nostalgic and just pure simple true. And that my dear, no science can explain.

My dear father. I love you. Yes, we have our differences. Yes, we don't see eye to eye on pretty much everything. But please don't alienate me like this. I do have my own choices and I do have my own life to live. That includes making decisions that you might not approve of. Like who I marry or what I do. I have no intention of going back into engineering, no matter what you say - unlike you, I will not do what I do not like. I am happy giving teaching a try. It is fun. No, I am not earning a lot. But I am enjoying myself at this moment. And it gives me a chance to interact. So no, no code monkey me. And no, my marriage is my decision. No matter what you say or do, it is my and my only decision. Yes, it would be awesome if you would be happy with your daughter for what she is. And not stop talking to me like you have decided to. And no, I am not going to talk either. I have made no mistakes and so do not think of me as an idiot. I am not a liar, so do not call me one. I wish you would sit down and listen. Not storm off or refuse to meet me half way. Please do not make excuses or try to force me into making a choice.

Yes, I respect you and yes, you know more. But when it comes to me, please let me be my own person. Do not try to make into someone you want me to be. I am me. And no, no one else has the right to me but me. If I am making a mistake, and you know it, tell me about it. But if I am convinced it is not, I do not think you can change my mind. I will do what I think is right. Not what you think is right.

Yes, may be I would be saved plenty of heart break if I go your way. but would I remain me then? Dear father, can you please not leave me alone and go out alone? Dear father, can you please be a father? To me? Not to the person who you think I am in your head? But to me out here in flesh and blood.

Thanks
Purva

First off, what is it with LiveJournal that I can't open it from home? Just what on earth is it? Secondly, I am off for a fortnight, to Goa and to Mumbai. Next, I am

???

Whoa, the rest of my entry was gobbled up by something beyond my screen. GAhhhhhhhh. No, I am not writing it again.

Anyway, did the Twitter outage drive you "I-need-to-post-what-I-ate-for-breakfast" crowd crazy?

WARNING - ramble. read at your own risk.

Love makes the world go round, oft heard. Love is life said someone else. But if this is the truth, is it really that simple a truth?

Love is beautiful, agreed. But it is so much more messy. So much more dangerous. It is pretty easy to slip past love into fanaticism, obsession, madness. It is just that much more easier to move from the “I Love You” territory to the “You Are Mine” territory.

Anyway, does love simplify things or complicate them? What does it do? I for one believe that the moment you add it to any part of your life, it is recipe for disaster. It leads to expectations – which are never fulfilled. Coz when one is, another one is already alive and kicking. Till you are friends, it is so much easier right. No expectations, no issues. You bring in yourself, I bring in myself. And that is about all. We share. We fight, we solve it. But we do not expect magic. Or we do not expect spending the rest of the life together [barf] We are happy just with the company. No need to do all those couple-y thingies. No need to guess what the other person wants. You somehow know is when you are friends. The moment there is the L word in question, you second guess yourself. You doubt – will s/he like this/that? Which one better? Is it enough? Good lord! Could we just not have had plain simple friendship and be done with it.

Think about it. They wax eloquent about love. Say sex is useless without love. May be it is. May be it is not. Don't you remember the countless movies where when the protagonists fall for each other, it is as if sex turns into making love. What rubbish! Sex is for procreation, fun, a tool for power and all that. Love is...? Well I do not know. All those movies where the one night stands become all gone with the wind the moment the special someone is found. And all that you fall in love only once rubbish. Let it all be gone with the wind I say.

They say love is pure and boundless and it gives you strength and all that. Who is it that they are talking about? All those great love stories [wait a minute I need to roll my eyes] – aren't they the ones with the gory ends? The Devdas and the Romeo-Juliets of the world. They are great coz they died? Well, great strength they have – I for one do not have the guts to kill myself.

Why do we not talk about all the reality of love? That love makes you want to be with that person, and that not being together is hard? Why don't they talk about the fights – over issues as ridiculous as the fact that s/he does not cut the bread right? Issues that are small, but which take a life of their own. We all love our parents. But do we not disagree with them? Do we not expect them to understand us and vice versa without having to explain anything? I know I do. Well guess what, it won't happen. We are different from them, right from our looks to our thought process to our decision making process. We are similar, but we are different. Very different. Think of your boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband/spouse/life partner. Do you not expect them to know you? How well do you know yourself? Me, I have no ideas how I will react in most of situations today as compared to tomorrow, yet they ought to know? Do I hear hypocrites? How often do we stop to think of others? When do we put aside the blinkers and start to look at life from their point of view? Not too often right?

Maybe I am missing something because I am not in love. Or may be I am just not cut out for that thing. But I do believe that love is hard work. It is a gorgeous end, with a lot of work that goes into making it to the final round and beyond. It takes patience to not throw someone off the balcony when they are talking baloney or when your hormones are crazy and everything, including chocolate officialy sucks. Love is more than just sex, it is also the cuddle after and shudder! sharing your bed. I mean share your bed? I have fallen off my queen size bed and take serious offense to my personal bed space being violated. The very thought of someone else in my bed makes me want to throw them off already. They say it is also about the sparkle in your eye that overshadows the tears when you fight. That they make you want to overlook the fact that they shake their legs when sitting or that they do not put a coaster on the table on a warm day underneath a glass beaded with the water drops. What exactly is love? Does love come in a moment or does it come over time? Do you know your love the moment you see them as all Mills and Boons and Harlequin and Silhoutte proclaims? Or does it take a long hard journey to get there? I know not. I aint a scholar or a brain phycisist to know this all.

Yes, there is a lot of love around this world. But there is so much more about it that we sweep under the rug. Why don't people talk about it? Because it takes a little bit of that glossy sheen off the idea of love and romance that Disney and Hallmark have built huge empires over? Or because they do not exist? Am I the only one who thinks sharing a bed could be a potential deal breaker?

So tell me is love a four letter word? Or is the gold pot at the end of the rainbow?

PS - I am writing this coz I am sick of all those lovey dovey songs on the TV, the stupid rom-coms on the TV and more specifically I am sick of my brother and his wife to be's antics. I mean I understand you guys are in love and what not, but please, I am not interested in talking about what Bhai did or what the Wife did on the phone. There is the weather to discuss and the price of daal to be exchanged. Let us stick to those? It makes for a much more boring exciting conversation and it does not make me want to rip out the phone cord to strangle myself with. Yawn.